Takashi Agera had to check himself out of class for the rest of the day early in the morning. There are some benefits to being a member of the shadowy organization that runs your school. But he couldn't focus, anyways - much like he couldn't sleep the night before.

The experiment he ran last night, while fruitful, came to an unexpected conclusion. And it forced Takashi to consider some things. Things that ate into his mind like a song you can't get out of your head. He remembers watching the subject - the young boy - become a destructive force when filled with dark energy, a personality and desire change that was rather extreme. And then, when the Dark Energy was removed, go back to normal. He'd seen the boy today, talking with friends - he seemed no worse for wear.

It gave Takashi pause. He'd been born with this power - but also that coldness in his heart. It was never something he denied feeling. He always considered it a benefit to his scientific mind, the ability to be divorced enough from emotion to make the right decision, the ability to make hard choices, the strength to pursue the power necessary to reach his goals - the strength and intelligence combined to be the leader that any group needed, whether that group was a small division within Eclipse, or the entirety of humanity.

But what if that wasn't right - what if he had been lead by that darkness - much as the young boy, his experiment had - the entire time. What if all of his work, all the ideas he espoused, was simply the effect of that; much like the youma destroying everything in its vicinity. More nuanced, but to the same end?

He thinks about a recent conversation with Ayana, too. Who was really in the right there? Was he free of emotion, making the intelligent choice alone, when he channeled the energy he used to blast that boy in the cape and tuxedo? It didn't feel it then - it felt like he was pushed by the energy inside him to that height of malicious power. In fact, it affected him for a while after - that was undeniable.

Had he truly chosen the path he was on, or had it been a conclusion of his mother's work and his father's desires? Was he walking his path, or theirs? These thoughts continued to run through his head as he laid in bed, looking up at the ceiling.